Page 15 of Tamed By a Duke
"And why is that?" Dubarry queried, slightly perplexed.
"Because if she does not know," Hugh replied evenly, "Then she will be forced to be on her best behaviour around me, which will ease my suffering somewhat."
Hugh did not say that it would also amuse him thoroughly to have the sharp-tongued lass jump through hoops trying to impress him; Dubarry was not the sort who would agree with a little light torturing of bluestockings.
"Very well," Dubarry sighed, "Doing a good deed is reward enough, I shouldn't try to sully things with Miss Bianca by making her think she is indebted to me in anyway. I would prefer our love to blossom without impetus."
"And I would prefer if you could refrain from spouting such sappy nonsense," Hugh said with a roll of his eyes, "Lest I cast up my accounts. Now, let me think how we shall do this. You cannot introduce us, or it might give the game away. Orsino, you are familiar with Lady Havisham, are you not?"
"More familiar with the nephew, but we have been introduced," Orsino confirmed, his eyes following Hugh's gaze to the corner where the trio sat. "She's—ahem—a rather interesting character."
Hugh could well believe it; as well as the peacock which sat upon her head, Lady Havisham also sported a fox stole—complete with paws—around her neck, whilst in her hands, she clutched a walking stick with an ornate handle shaped like the head of a Highland Cow. She was, Hugh thought with a grin, like a walking version of Polito's Menagerie.
"The title is Scottish," Orsino whispered, "Which explains the cow...somewhat. Come, I will make you known to her."
With an elegant grace surprising for a man of his stature, Orsino made his way across the crowded ballroom, with Hugh hot on his heels. Their progress was watched by the majority of theton, but evidently the trio of Lady Havisham and her two charges had not noted, for three surprised pairs of eyes looked up at their arrival. Hugh bit back a grin as he noted Miss Drew's expression change from one of shock to one of horror, as she recognised him. Oh, how sweet the element of surprise was.
"Lady Havisham," Orsino gave a deep bow, "How pleased I am to see you again."
"Poppycock," Lady Havisham replied, in a voice inflicted with a deep Scottish burr, "It is not I that you are pleased to see, Orsino, but my niece and her friend. Don't pretend you walked all the way over here to speak to this old lady."
Lady Havisham poked Orsino squarely in the gut with the head of her cane, the silver horns of the Highland Cow denting the duke's velvet waistcoat, such was the force she used. Hugh could not hide his smile of delight, for he had never witnessed anyone—let alone a diminutive old lady—issue the fearsome Duke of Orsino with such a bald drubbing down.
"And who is this grinning addle pate?" Lady Havisham continued, with a stern glance at Hugh.
"This would be the Duke of Penrith," Orsino replied, sounding—to Hugh's ears at least—far more amused than he should.
"Penrith?" Lady Havisham harrumphed, and the feathers of the peacock upon her head fluttered, "One of your so-called Upstarts. At least you had the sense not to drag the other puffed up popinjay over to me—I heard about his recent drive into the Serpentine. Now, gentlemen, allow me to introduce my niece, Miss Violet Havisham and her good friend, Miss Charlotte Drew."
Both ladies looked as though they wished the floor would swallow them up; Miss Havisham's face was quite as red as the rope which surrounded the dancefloor, her deep blue eyes glancing up at both men apologetically. Miss Drew, on the other hand, was making a concerted effort to look everywhere but at Hugh. Her green eyes were determinedly fixed upon the chandelier above their heads, as though she were evaluating it for purchase.
Hugh, a little irritated that his advantage of surprise had been somewhat decimated by the surprise of Lady Havisham's obstreperoustournure, spoke first.
"Ladies, I am charmed to make your acquaintance," he said, offering them both a curt bow, "I know that both Orsino and I would feel privileged if you would do us both the honour of standing up with us."
Hugh subtly elbowed Orsino in the ribs, wincing a little for it was akin to elbowing a brick wall, and his friend hastily added a noise of agreement to his statement.
"Miss Drew?" Hugh looked pointedly at his prey, who paled slightly, before settling her features into an expression of resignation, which pricked at Hugh's pride.
"Miss Havisham?" Orsino rumbled, proffering his elbow toward the other girl. Miss Havisham gave an audible gulp of fear, before rising to a stand and taking Orsino's arm, her hand appearing tiny against his muscles which were visible even through the sleeve of his coat.
In silence, the two dukes led their partners—or was it captives?—toward the dancefloor. The whole room was abuzz with whispers, for neither Penrith nor Orsino had ever deigned to set foot in Almack's, yet here they were. And dancing with eligible chits of marriageable age, no less.
"In the end, it was not difficult to find you, Miss Drew," Hugh observed dryly, as the quartet reached the edge of the ballroom floor and waited for the current dance to end.
"Of course it was not difficult," his partner replied with a snip, "I was not hiding from you. Pray, do not congratulate yourself too much on your powers of detection, your Grace, you would be giving yourself far too much credit. Besides, I have no reason to hide from you; my being at that meeting was a perfectly honest mistake."
"Yes," Hugh's tone was dry as the desert, "I can see how easy it was for you to confuse rabid republicans with crochet enthusiasts. Tell me, Miss Drew, have you been to anymoreinteresting meetings of late?"
"I could ask you the same question, your Grace," Miss Drew replied with alacrity, "At least I have an excuse for being present, you appeared to have been there of your own volition."
Touché.
Hugh struggled to keep his features set in an impassive expression, not wanting a scowl of annoyance to let Miss Drew know that she had struck a chord of irritation. His work for Whitehall was supposed to be top-secret; he couldn't well explain to her that he had been there spying.
Luckily, an explanation was not immediately required, for the current dance had come to an end, and the orchestra were tuning up for a Quadrille.
There were no more chances for chat, for the dance involved four couples and much changing of partners. Hugh assumed a glowering expression, befitting of a duke, as he made his way through the steps. But, despite his scowl, he could not help but feel a frisson of excitement every time he touched Miss Drew. A chaste hand on the small of a lady's back was not usually that exciting for a jade like Hugh, but for some strange reason—and even though he wore gloves—Hugh was overcome with desire.
